


The Depth of Ebony

by krazyk2314



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Supernatural - Freeform, hell hound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:21:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22231699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krazyk2314/pseuds/krazyk2314
Summary: A hell hound is needed to fulfill a spell. A hellhound is captured by TFW. But it turns to be more than they bargain for. Y/N becomes more than they bargained for.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 26
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

Snarling, you snapped your jaws together, staring at the three men in front of you. They had you cornered against the stone wall, wicked-looking weapons held in front of them.

You had two choices. You could try to sneak back through the Devil's gate, back to a life of misery and bloodshed. Or you could try to push past them. Behind them was freedom, an idea so foreign that it scared you.

"I can't see it!" One man yelled. He was tall and lanky, his shaggy hair getting into his eyes as he glanced around the area you were cornered, never landing on you.

"Well, I can freaking hear it. Where is it Cas?" The man in the middle asked the last man, all three of them holding you in place without even knowing it.

"Right in front. Buy the headstone," The man named Cas grumbled, his voice rough, and you sensed it immediately. He was not human. Not a Demon either.

You cowered back, getting down on your haunches, ready to make a jump for it, knowing that your greatest chance of escaping was by the tall, shaggy man.

"Where the hell are your hellhound glasses?" Cas exclaimed. "They would be very helpful right now!"

Your chance at escaping was quickly disappearing when the other two men pulled out glasses. You had heard of these glasses. Stories passed through the rankings of Demons. About brothers and their friend who used holy fire to spot monsters like you. Hell hounds. The scourge of the underworld. Deadly with teeth sharper than knives and claws that could shred through a human's skin like it was paper.

Your heart pounding, you tried racing past the tall, skinny one, but he already had his glasses on. "I've got it!" He called, flinging himself on top of you, struggling to hold you as you fought for purchase in the frozen ground. "Help!"

His wicked-looking blade knicked your thick skin, and you whimpered in pain, immediately freezing. It surprised all three of the men, who stared down at you before handcuffs were pulled from a pocket. "Dean, do you really think those will hold a hell hound?"

The man, Dean, just shrugged. "Sam, It's the best thing we have. With that and rope, it should do the trick."

Finally, you knew the name of all three men who were around you. Capturing you and taking away the freedom you had wanted for so long. The handcuffs were loose on your joints, but with the rope, you were bound tight. "Something doesn't feel right," Cas, the being you hadn't figure out yet, spoke up, cocking his head to the side as he stared at you. "This was too easy."

"Sometimes easy is a good thing," Dean muttered as he and Sam picked you up. "Now we'll get her to the car, you close the gate."

You watched as your only way back was sealed up before you were being shoved into a dog kennel that was much too small. Your head banged, your shoulders scraped against the rough plastic as the door was slammed shut. The rope still tight around your legs, and you couldn't move an inch. Whimpering, you could barely see through the bars as Dean climbed into the driver's seat of the car. Cas sat beside you, Sam in the passenger seat.

"So, we've got the Hell hound," Dean sighed as he pulled away from the graveyard. "Now what?"

"We need its blood," Sam explained. "That's what Rowena said. We get the hellhound, and use its blood to create the charm."

"Why couldn't we have just killed the hound back there and put its blood in a vial?" Dean grumbled. "What if it claws the upholstery?"

"It's a girl," Cas spoke up, surprising everyone. Your eyes connected with his through the bars, and you whimpered again. "And I still don't think something's right."

"Of course it's not," Dean agreed. "We have a freaking hell hound in baby! I'll never be able to get that smell out of here."

"No, it's more than that," Cas insisted, his hand inching closer to the cage, where your head was. You growled and he pulled it back, his eyebrows narrowed in frustration. "I think we need to tread carefully here."

You listened to them arguing back and forth. You wished you could talk. To tell this Cas that he was right. But you could only watch him closely as the car sped down the road.

The sky was an inky blue, the sun slowly starting to rise when the car finally came to a stop. Sam had been sleeping in the front while Dean drove. Cas continued to stare at you, his hand never moving close again, but you could feel the curiosity coming from him. You just wanted to know what he was as much as he wanted to know about you.

Dean pulled the Impala into a darkened room, stopping in the middle before shutting off the engine. In your cage, you were pretty much blind to your surroundings. But when your cage was lifted up, you saw older cars, in an interesting looking garage.

"Honey we're home," Dean muttered, picking up the other half of your kennel, struggling to carry it with his brother.

"Oh, how sweet," A Scottish accent purred, female and full of venom. "I trust you were able to procure the goods?"

"Rowena, use your eyes," Dean sighed.

You were rudely dropped onto a table, banging your head onto the heavy plastic. You snarled and snipped at their fingers. Dean cursed, stepping back, still wearing his glasses.

"I don't have glasses on dearie," Rowena answered back. "I trust it's in there."

"Rowena, do you feel something different about it?" Cas asked, stepping to her side. "It gave in too easy and hasn't fought back. Something feels wrong."

"No, but I've never worked with a hell hound before," Rowena answered. "I have the spell ready. I just need her blood."

"Her?" Both Dean and Sam exclaimed.

"Why yes. This little hell hound is a girl," she said in her thick accent. Before you could move, she stuck a needle in your thick hide, filling it full of your bubbling, black blood. "That should do nicely."

You watched as she emptied the syringe into a thick stone bowl. Smoke, almost blue in color, wafted up as she chanted in Latin. Everyone watched as she waved her hands over the smoke. Minutes ticked by, and she glanced down in dismay.

"Why didn't it work?" Dean growled, his voice low.

"It should have worked," she puttered. I did everything right. Are you sure this is a hell hound?"

"What other snarling beast is invisible," Sam answered sarcastically. "Of course it's a hell hound!"

"But what if it's not," Cas interrupted, turning everyone's attention to him.


	2. Chapter 2

Still cowering in the small kennel, you watched the exchange, freezing when all eyes turned to you. The Angel’s question hung in the air, swirling through everyone’s minds. Rowena couldn’t see you, but Sam and Dean could, and their eyes widened in confusion at a Hell Hound cowering in the corner. Most Hell Hounds would be snapping at the bars, trying to kill everyone in sight. It was how all of you had been trained.   
“Cas, if it’s not a Hell Hound, what the hell is it?” Dean asked.   
Sam took a step towards you, crouching down to get a good look at your matted black fur, your sharp teeth, and blood-red eyes. “It certainly looks like a hell hound.”  
“I don’t know,” Cas muttered, turning towards Rowena. “Any ideas?”  
She shrugged her shoulders, her silky royal blue dress shimmering with the movement. She was small in stature, but you could feel the power rolling off of her. She was a powerful witch, you could easily tell. Maybe finally you had found the person that would help you with your….little problem.  
“I would need to get closer to the little dog here to search for myself, but I do agree. Something doesn’t seem right. My spell should have worked.”  
Holding her hand over your cage, you whispered, the word sounding ancient as they drifted over you. The words calmed you, easing the trembling that had taken over your body. Your long legs curled in on themselves as you sank to the bottom of the kneel, letting the words lull you to sleep. The last thing you saw was a pair of emerald eyes peering down at you.

“Boys, you can come back now,” The familiar Scottish Witch said as you slowly woke up. You were no longer in the cramped kennel. Heavy iron chains were shackled to your legs, along with a heavy collar around your neck. Your body was heavy, and you could have drifted back to sleep but you wanted to hear what was going on around you.  
The two men and Angel shuffled their way into the room, eyeing you warily, but you made no effort to move. Whatever spell the witch had completed still had most of your energy zapped. “Did you figure anything out?” The Angel asked in his gruff voice. “Why wouldn’t your spell work?”  
“Easy Angel,” Rowena purred, her hand resting on your back hip. The touch was foreign but warm. It was the first contact you had received in...you couldn’t remember. You whimpered but made no movement.   
She sighed. “This poor dear isn’t a Hell Hound at all,” she spoke slowly. “She looks like one, is one essentially. But her soul. It has been something else. Something that seems...human. At least I think so, but she has been a Hell Hound for so long that it’s been contaminated.”  
“What?” Both Sam and Dean exclaimed at the same time, while you breathed a sigh of relief. It had been your secret for such a long time. A hope that someone would come along and help you out of this situation. But as years passed you had given up on that hope. And now you could feel it blooming in your chest once again. Almost painful, but it was there. And maybe this unique group of hunters, an Angel, and a Witch would be able to help you.   
“That’s what I felt!” Cas exclaimed, moving his hand beside the witch’s, gently hovering above your matted, wiry black fur. “But how?”  
Rowena sucked in a breath, moving her hand to come crouch down in front of you. Her eyes gazed into yours, trusting that you wouldn’t jump and snap at her. You hoped she could see the trust, and the hope in your eyes. “She was spelled. A very powerful, very old spell. One that I have only heard of.”   
Dean plopped down in the chair in front of you, his hands resting on his knees. “You’re telling me that this pour soul has been turned into a Hell Hound? For who knows how long?”  
“We need to save her,” Sam spoke softly. “She needs our help.”  
Dean groaned, running his hand through his hair. “Who says that we can? Or if she’s been a Hound for so long there is no trace of humanity left in her?”   
Your hopes slightly dashed, you lifted your paw as far as the shackles would let you, pawing towards Rowena as you let out a pitiful whine. “I can sense ti. She’s still in there,” Rowena insisted.  
“I agree,” Cas moved his hand over you. “She still has her Human soul, and we need to give her the chance.”  
“Rowena? Do you think you can do something?” Dean asked her.   
She hummed as she stood back up, her dress still shimmering as she moved. “I can try. I’ll search through my books, but something needs to be done.”  
She left along with Cas and Sam, leaving you alone with Dean. He sat in the chair, watching you closely without saying a word, studying you. “What did you do to piss off a witch for them to turn you into a Hell Hound?”  
You yipped softly, wishing you could talk to him. You were drawn to Dean, more than any of the others. He hadn’t given you special attention, but there was something about him that made him seem like the one you could get close to. If only…  
“You can still understand us?”  
You yipped again and rubbed his chin as he thought. “I’ll talk to the others, but I don’t know if we can trust you enough to release you.”  
He stood up, coming to stand in front of you. “I don’t know if we can, but we’ll do our best to help you. I can at least promise that.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean had left the door open slightly, letting the hallway light filter into the small, chilly room. You were still shackled, chained to the table, but it was a fair sight better than that horrid cage.

Your stomach rumbled but you ignored it, focusing on the more pressing issues on hand. Like what your next step would be.

You wanted to trust Dean Winchester and the people surrounding him. He truly seemed to want to help. But you were nervous and unsure. You had been by yourself so long. This horrid, warped version of yourself. For years you had wondered if you would be saved, but it had been beaten away by your hell hound training. Soon, the urges of the beast, to hunt and kill had taken over your basic instincts until you could get away. You had stayed hidden so long, so lonely, so ready for your hellish life to end. Until you were taken in by these men.

They had given you a chance to hope again. To feel these emotions that were so obscure to your Hell Hound self. You just feared that all of your hopes wouldn’t be dashed. That between these hunters, an angel and a witch they would be able to figure something out.

The door squeaked open, and you glanced up to see Dean stepping inside. He had changed out of his flannel and jeans, wearing soft pants and a shirt, with a robe hanging over. His hair was mussed like he had been sleeping. He left the light off, pulling a chair over to you before sinking down.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Bet you can’t either.”

You watched him warily, making no movement. “This is stupid. Talking to a freaking hell hound that I can’t even see. Sure, Rowena said you were cursed, but how do I know it’s the truth?”

You whimpered then, letting him know that you were there. His eyes shot up, his body stiff as he waited for the attack. But when it didn’t happen, he relaxed once again.

“Hell, I don’t even know your name or anything,” he muttered. “Is it okay if I call you….let’s see…

“Call her Y/N,” The Witch said from the doorway. “It just seems fitting.”

“Y/N,” Dean repeated, staring at where you should be. “It’s pretty.”

Rowena came to stand beside Dean, both of them staring your way even though they couldn’t see you. “Dean, I’ve been thinking,” Rowena started slowly. “I have a feeling this Hell Hound won’t do us any harm.”

“How can we be so sure?” He retorted. “Have you seen a freaking Hell Hound before?”

She tsked, her red hair swishing around her shoulders. She was wearing green silk pajamas, that brightened her hair and her eyes. You wondered if she always looked so regal. “Dean, how old do you think I am? Of course, I’ve seen a Hell hound before. There are other things besides your holy oil glasses that work.”

His arms were crossed, but you could sense that he was nervous and unsure. “So if you’ve seen one, you know they can’t be trusted.”

Rowena pressed her tiny manicured hand on his shoulder, and you watched the exchange avidly. “My naive Dean. Sure, she is a Hell Hound now, but she was not always that way. Trust me on this.”

Before Dean could argue, Rowena was by your side, her hand resting on your scarred and rough shoulder. “Don’t make me regret this,” she whispered so only you could hear it. With a snap your bindings fell down, leaving you free. You stayed still for a moment before bounding off the table.

It felt good to stretch your legs after being tied up for so long. “Where is she?” Dean growled, automatically reaching for the gun that wasn’t there. “Damn it, Rowena, what did you do?”

“I can sense her,” Rowena exclaimed. “She seems happy. Peaceful even.”

You were happy. Things were starting to look up. And you weren’t going to do anything to ruin your chance at finally being normal once again.

“I still don’t like this,” Dean muttered. He stood there, glancing around as if he could see you. But without his glasses, he couldn’t. Stretching your back, you padded over closely to Dean, staring up at him. Taking a chance, you leaned forward, rubbing your head against his leg, trying to assure him that you would be okay.

“Whoa!” He exclaimed, taking a step back, his eyes blown wide. “What the hell?”

“Dean,” Rowena chastised. “She’s trying to talk to you.”

“She could have taken a bite out of my leg!” Dean argued.

“I’m going to bed,” Rowena yawned. “I do need my beauty sleep after all. But Dean, try to calm down. If she was going to bite you, she would have done so by now.”

Rowena left you alone with Dean, who still seemed on edge. You wanted to brush your head against his leg again, to let him know that it was okay, but it hadn’t worked so well the first time. Sitting there, you let out a soft whine.

“So,” Dean sighed. “Is this you telling me you mean no harm?”

You yipped in response and he laughed. “Well, things can’t get any weirder. I’m talking to a freaking Hell Hound!”

You yipped again. “Fine. I’m not sure this is the smartest thing to do, but I still don’t exactly trust leaving you wandering the Bunker on your own.”

You could watch the thoughts flicker across his face before he waved his hand. “Come on, you can bunk down in my room.”

You followed behind him, your feet padding softly on the tiled floor. He kept glancing over his shoulder, shaking his head when he remembered he couldn’t see you. Pushing open a door, Dean stepped in. “You still there?”

You yipped again, letting him know. “Well, this is my room. Um here,” he said, tossing a blanket on the floor. “ You can sleep on it.”

Circling around the blanket, you sank down, the soft bed foreign after laying on the hard ground for so long. “You good?”

You yipped again. “Don’t try anything funky tonight. Got it?” He threatened, and you yipped again. “Good, because you don’t want to deal with me angry.”

With those words, he slipped out of jeans and flannel, sliding into bed. You watched him, your head on your paws. You could sense this man had a kind heart. You knew that in the coming weeks you would be sticking to his side like glue.


	4. Chapter 4

The blanket was soft against your fur, cushioning the ground. So different than what you were accustomed to. But then again, anything would be the stables in Hell where you were kept. The floor had been lined with molding hay, your hiding hole later on just a pile of rocks. The blanket was almost too soft in comparison, and you found yourself tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable place.  
Dean seemed to have the same problem. His bed seemed soft, and he had to be used to it. But still, he tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep.   
You ended up turning once again, resting your head on your paws as you watched Dean finally relax into sleep. He had one hand resting on his belly, the other tucked under his pillow. The blanket was bunched at his waist, his white t-shirt pulled tight to show off his trim figure.   
You had never met a man like this Dean Winchester. Not in your times as a human, or as a Hell Hound. He was rough but kind, overwhelming but in a good way. He drew you to him, and you hoped that if they were able to help you that you might stay around for a while.   
As you watched him sleep, you could see his sleep wasn’t an easy one. His fingers twitched on his stomach, his muscles clenching. He started mumbling, his head tossing back and forth. Moving from your spot, you watched as the nightmare took complete control of him.   
He thrashed about in the bed, his head arching back. His voice came out strangled, and you acted impulsively. Jumping on the bed, you whined next to his head. His hand lashed out, hitting the side of your head, but you shook it off.  
Whining again, you nudged his cheek, then again, slightly harder. His eyes snapped open as he furiously pushed himself away from your hot, putrid breath. “What the…,” he muttered, his chest rising and falling fast.   
You stayed where you were, whining again. Dean’s pupils were wide as he tried to calm his breaths. Running his hand through his hair, he glanced over where he thought you were. “Y/N?”  
You yipped softly. “I know I should be afraid of you. But thank you, for waking me up from that nightmare.”   
He took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m going to go get a drink. Why don’t you stay here.”  
He stood up, heading to the door. “And by the way, your breath smells like rotten meat that’s been brewing in sewage. We definitely need to get you a mint.”  
He shut the door behind him, leaving you alone in his room. But you didn’t mind. Hopping down from his bed, you curled back up on your blanket, your mind swirling back to your time when you had been human.  
You missed it so much. Being able to walk on two legs. To talk and interact with other humans. Your life had been simple as a human. You helped run your family’s grocery store in New England in the 1920s. You had a beau, a handsome young gentleman named Freddie. You were planning your wedding when this angry woman had accused you of stealing him away. That night you had gone to sleep a woman and had woken up this horrid, ugly version that no one could see.   
If Hell Hounds could cry, your tears would have long since dried up by now. Your life had turned into one nightmare after another, and finally, just maybe you had a slim chance of hope.  
You had no idea how long Dean was gone, but you had finally fallen asleep when the door creaked open and he stepped inside.  
He was wearing the glasses once again, staring at his bed before turning to where he had placed the blanket. “There you are,” he seemed surprised that you had gone back to your bed.   
He reeked of alcohol but seemed to handle it just fine. He had a book in his hand as he stumbled to his bed. “Got this from the library,” he told you, waving it in the air. “All about hell hounds. These men of letters kept stuff on everything!”  
He tossed it on the nightstand before stretching out on his bed. Yawning he waved over your way before taking the glasses off. “Thanks for waking me from the nightmare,” he muttered before falling asleep instantly.  
You cocked your head to one side before laying it down over your paws, falling back to sleep once again, hoping that tomorrow would bring you better news. 

Somehow Dean had managed to slip past you while you had been sleeping, leaving you in his room with the door cracked open. Yawning, you stretched your aching joints before your stomach rumbled loudly.   
Heading out the door, your claws clicked on the tile floor. You could hear loud voices from up ahead, but it was the smell that you paid more attention to. Meat. It smelled so good that your mouth began watering, and you let out a little growl of appreciation.  
“Dean, what the hell are we doing?” His brother Sam exclaimed. “You’re letting a Hell Hound run loose in the bunker!”  
“She was in my room,” Dean argued, and you heard Sam scoff.   
“Yeah, and you left the door open.”  
You peered around the corner. They were all sitting at the table. Dean, his brother, that Angel named Castiel, and the nice red-haired woman Rowena. Dean had a plate of food in front of him, the smell wafting towards you. Both Sam and Dean were wearing their glasses, and you knew there was no sneaking up on them.   
Cautiously you stepped forward, your claws loud as you entered the library. Rowena and Cas were the first to glance up even though they weren’t wearing glasses. But they could sense you. “I think we’re not alone,” Rowena spoke softly.  
Dean’s head snapped up, and he saw you padding closer to him, your nose sniffing the air. “Hey Y/N!” He exclaimed.  
You sat down right beside him, easily noticing the way Sam glanced warily at you. You sniffed the air, drool pooling in your mouth at the sight of all that bacon sitting in front of you.   
“Dean, I think she wants some of your bacon,” Sam suggested.   
Dean glanced between you and the bacon, torn. But finally, he picked up a couple of pieces, sitting them down in front of you. He watched as you slowly ate the delicious meat. “See Sam? She’s nothing at all like the other Hell Hounds.”  
“Yet,” Sam argued, but just then Rowena spoke up.  
“Dean, this book you found. It might help us out!”


	5. Chapter 5

Your ears perked up at Rowena’s excitement. Dean stood up, his plate forgotten as he moved to see what Rowena was looking at. You padded around the table, sitting down right next to Dean, your head resting on his thigh as you tried to listen in.  
He glanced down at you, his face softening slightly at the fact you were leaning against him before he turned his attention back to what Rowena was saying.  
“It’s a very old spell,” She continued. “The words, they’re Sumerian I believe. Cas?”  
The Angel glanced over the words. “Correct. This spell, it talks about reversing spells. Do you think it would work on something this advanced?”  
The witch shrugged, but a sly smile crossed her face. You liked her and knew that if anyone could figure this out, it would be her. “It’s a start,” she purred in her accent. “I can bend it and force it to become my own. But I think it will help little Y/N here.”   
You yipped in excitement, the sound probably sounding more like a growl. Sam glared at you in alarm, but no one made any moves towards you. “I think she’s excited,” Rowena said, reaching down and patting your head. You weren’t used to the touch but it felt nice, and you leaned into it, closing your eyes.  
“Ingredients?” Sam asked, still eying you warily.  
She sighed. “Sammy dear, patience. Let me figure things out and then we can talk about ingredients. Y/N’s been a Hell hound for a long time, another day or two isn’t going to hurt.”   
“Come, dearie,” she told you. “Let’s let the boys grumble and plan. You and I have work to do.”  
You politely followed her out of the library, back down the hallway to what seemed like a medical room. A couple of beds lined one wall, cabinets, and tables on the other. Rowena placed the book down on one table, pulling it closer to the last bed. “Up,” she ordered, and you jumped. “First, I need some of those glasses those Winchesters are wearing.”  
She rifled through the cabinets, proudly pulling out a pair of silver square frames. “These will work,” she muttered to herself before digging around some more. “And holy oil. Man, this place sure does have everything.”  
You laid down on the bed, your head resting on your paws as you watched her work. She mumbled under her breath, her curly black hair getting in her way as she worked. Flames lit up on the counter and she ran the glasses through them. Once they were extinguished, she slid the glasses on turning proudly back to you. “Oh, there you are. Such a blasted spell huh? Being transformed into anything is bad enough, but something as hideous and evil as a hell hound? How have you made it this long?”   
She patted you on the head before sitting down gracefully in the rolling chair. She moved it until it was nestled between the bed and the table. “This might take a while, but with your help, I believe we can figure out how to make this spell work for us.”  
You yipped softly in agreement, watching the red-headed witch as she began searching once again through the book.

Time passed, even though as a hell hound time felt different. Rowena had worked hard, scribbling notes onto paper, mumbling under her breath. Sometimes she would rest her hand on the rough and scratchy fur that covered you. Other times she would stare directly into your eyes as if she could see into your soul.  
She had nodded off about five minutes ago, and you needed to stretch and see if you could sneak out for a little bathroom break. Jumping off of the bed, you quietly padded to the door. Right might have brought you outside, but you could hear raised voices to the left.  
Your curiosity got the better of you, and you headed towards the voices. It was Dean and his brother. “Sam, what’s up with you? You’ve been grumpy, and shifty. Has it been too long since you’ve been laid?”  
“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just...since when have you been the first to trust someone? Specifically, someone that is involved with Demons?”   
“I was wondering why you were so shifty around Y/N,” Dean muttered. “Listen, I don’t trust Demons as far as I can throw them. But Y/N, she’s different. I can’t explain it, but I can just sense it. And after all, she was spelled into this. So why can’t we just give her the benefit of the doubt?”  
Sam sighed. “I guess. It’s just usually when we trust Demons it comes back to bite us in the butt.”  
“It won’t happen this time,” Dean promised. “Just give Y/N some time. And Rowena’s working on the spell. Y/N could be human again before we know it.”  
You slowly came around the corner, your entire demeanor showing you meant no harm. “Y/N!” Dean exclaimed as you came to sit next to him, laying your head on his thigh. He held his hand over your head for a moment before lightly petting your head.   
“Sam,” Dean glanced over at his brother who still watched you carefully. “You’re the dog person.”  
Sam sighed once again but slowly held his hand out towards you. You sniffed it, smelling nothing but gun powdered and ancient books. And kindness. You lifted your head, rubbing it against his hand. “I guess she’s not too bad,” Sam muttered. “But Dean, she’s still your responsibility.”  
“Got it,” Dean exclaimed, glad that everyone was finally on the same page.   
You whined, standing up and walking towards the stairs, hoping they would get the message. “What’s up?” Dean asked, making no move to get up from the table.  
You whined again just as Rowena, came into the room Cas by her side.. “Dean, I believe she has to use the bathroom.”  
“How the hell do you know that?” Dean asked as he stood up.   
“Glasses,” she tapped the frame. “And it’s just intuition, my dear. But why don’t you take her outside for a bit? It will do both you and her good while I give my supply list to Castiel.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean literally huffed as he stared down at you, eyeing you closely. “Can’t you just use the bathroom?” He asked, perplexed.  
“Sure she could. But she’s a hell hound also. Being cooped up this long has to be challenging for her,” Rowena argued. “It will do you both some good. Now choo.”  
You bounced up and down, your giant paws shaking the ground. Dean rolled his eyes but finally stood up. “Wait. Shouldn’t I have a leash or something? She could bolt the second we walk out that door.”  
You growled lightly, annoyed with the fact that your trust with Dean was still being questioned. He stopped, staring at you, raising an eyebrow. “What? It’s a good point!”  
“She won’t leave,” Sam spoke up, surprising everyone. “We’re a means to an end, and she’s not going to give that up.”  
Another point for Sam. It seemed like he was finally coming around. “Fine,” Dean muttered. “Let’s go.”  
You bounded up the steps, waiting impatiently for Dean as his heavy work boots clanged on the iron stairs. He pushed open the door, and you were out instantly. The sun felt amazing, and if your mouth hadn’t been hideously full of fangs, you would have smiled.   
Dean followed behind, his hands in his pockets, a smile on his face while he watched you. It must have looked crazy, a large, hairy beast frolicking in the weeds around the bunker. But you didn’t care. It had been ages since you had felt the sun on you, with no worry of having to hunt or be hunted.  
“Hurry up,” Dean muttered half-heartedly. Leaning against a tree, he watched as you sniffed around. Eyeing him warily, you rounded the large pine tree, quickly doing your business as private as you could. As you scratched the ground, you smelled it. It was faint, coming from the East. But the unmistakable scent of Hell hound was there, rotting up the air.  
Growling, you back up towards Dean, your hackles raised. “What is it?” He asked, looking the way you were. His hands were already out of his pockets, reaching for the gun he normally kept with him. “Damn it,” he muttered, coming up empty.  
Your senses on high alert, you kept your nose to the ground, sniffing as you slowly moved forward. The scent grew stronger, a mixture of rotten meat and sulfur. There was at least one hell hound here, possibly two. Three if you counted yourself.  
Turning to try and warn Dean, you watched in shock as the first hell hound came flying from nowhere, tackling Dean to the ground. Baring your teeth, you ran forward only to be knocked off your feet.   
Yipping as your shoulder bounced off a boulder, you immediately tucked and rolled, landing on your feet. Snarling, you lunged towards the hell hound. He was larger, almost twice your size. Bloody spittle dripped from his lips. His face was scarred, and you knew who it was. Skull, the leader of the meanest hell hound pack. His kills were legendary. And he was after you.   
You could hear Dean wrestling with the other hound, but you couldn’t help him now. He was on his own, as you were. “Why?” You asked Skull, communicating telepathically.   
He growled, his lip raising in a sneer. “You were the pet who vanished. When Alistair heard you had vanished, we were given the orders to pick you up. And when he heard who you were with? That was an added bonus.”  
The name Alistair was enough to send chills down your spine. You couldn’t go back to that man. Not now, not ever. Taking the only moment of surprise you might have, you jumped, going straight for the juggler.   
His large paw pushed you away, his claws ripping into your leathery flesh with ease. Whimpering, you lay there, watching as he stalked closer. You could still hear Dean in the background, fighting to get away from the hell hound pinning him to the ground. “Alistair said not to kill you,” Skull growled low in his chest. “But I am a Hell hound after all. Killing is my nature, and it should be yours too.”  
He lunged forward, and you took that instant to roll over. Pushing with all of your might, you used all four legs to fling him towards the cliff. He scrambled to hold on, but he had nothing to grasp with his claws. With a howl, he fell over the edge. You wanted to look, to see for yourself that he had died. But you were more worried about Dean.  
Your shoulder burned as blood dripped down to stain the dirt below. But still you pushed on, running as fast as you could, hitting the other Hell Hound square in the ribs. You heard them crack as you continued to push him, straight into the large trunk of a tree. He yipped, and you took that moment to wrap your teeth into his neck, ripping skin and muscle, tearing the life from him.  
He fell to the ground with a slump, and you turned to see Dean standing there, cautiously watching. He had a scratch across his cheek, and some on his shoulders, but otherwise he was unharmed. “Y/N?” He called out, wondering if the blood lust had turned you, changed you back into the killing machine that Hell Hounds were supposed to be. But all it had done was disgust you. You wanted that cure now more than ever.   
You started to slowly paw your way towards him, but your shoulder gave out, and you slumped to the ground. Dean rushed forward, awkwardly picking up your big frame in his arms. “Don’t worry,” he assured you. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”


	7. Chapter 7

Dean gently carried you, your large size giving him no issue. His cheek was bloody, one eye already starting to swell shut, but he walked with a purpose towards the bunker’s entrance. “Almost there,” he promised as the jostling made you whimper in pain. “Rowena will get you fixed right up.”  
He pushed open the heavy steel door, careful not to brush you against it. “Sam! Rowena!” He called out, taking the stairs down, cushioning your body to help with the pain. Gently he placed you down on the map table just as Sam and Rowena came running around the corner.  
They both had their glasses off, but could easily see something was wrong with Dean as he fell back into one of the rolling chairs. “What the hell happened?” Sam asked as Rowena reached into the pocket of her long blue gown and pulled out her glasses.  
“Demons,” Dean answered, wincing as he tried to find a more comfortable spot. “Alistair and his groupies jumped us. Y/N got the best of them, but Alistair escaped.”  
Rowena stepped up to you, running her hands along your body. You yipped when she came to your shoulder, her light touch too strong for your battered body. “Y/N fought hard but is hurt. Help her.”  
Your leathery skin seemed too tight, too hot as the pain burned through your body. You panted, trying to control the pain, to push it out. But it was quickly overtaking you, black specs dotting your vision. “She’s hurt badly,” Rowena told the brothers. “She’s lost a lot of blood. I’ll do what I can, but…,”  
“But what Rowena?” Dean exclaimed. “She saved my life, the least we can do is save hers!”  
Rowena’s sad eyes peered into your pain-filled. “I’ll do what I can. But maybe we need to think of..the spell.”  
“Rowena’s right,” Sam sighed. “We needed a hell hound’s blood to complete our spell to put Lucifer back in the cage once and for all.”  
Rowena spoke softly, her words an ancient tongue you didn’t recognize. They floated over you, taking some of the pain away, telling you to rest. Your eyelids grew heavy, and Dean’s worried green eyes were the last thing you saw as you drifted away.  
Your spell induced sleep was not an easy one. The pain kept pulling you up from the welcoming blackness, tugging at your mind until your eyes would blink open. You normally saw Dean, or Rowena standing in front of you, talking of a spell they needed to finish. Then you would fall back under, wondering if it would be for the last time.  
Once again you were pulled to the edge of consciousness, whimpering as your body started to shake. Your eyes tried to grasp onto anything familiar as pain coursed through your body. Your bones ached, your muscles spasmed. “I’m here,” Dean exclaimed, rushing forward and kneeling in front of you, his hand resting gently on the rough fur of your neck. “Y/N, can you hold on a little longer? Rowena’s working on a spell to fix you.”  
You whimpered softly, knowing that it wasn’t going to be much longer. Something on Skull’s claws had gotten into your system, slowly eating away at you until you died in agony. “Damn it,” Dean muttered, realizing that you weren’t going to last much longer. “Rowena, hurry up!” Dean yelled.   
You nuzzled his paw, the small movement almost too much for you to bear. “Y/N, thank you,” Dean spoke softly. “You saved my life back there. I’m sorry we weren’t able to help you.”  
With the feel of his callused hand against your nose, you gave in to the darkness, wishing you could have been human one more time.

As if cold water had been splashed over you, you sputtered awake, sitting straight up. Your entire body shook, your bones creaking and feeling unusual. Your legs felt long and antsy. Shivering, you moved to stand up on all fours, falling back to your side when your legs and arms weren’t the same length.   
You started to growl in annoyance, but it came out light and airy, nothing like the evil sounds you were used to making. Confused and scared, you lifted your paw up, staring at it in awe. Where rough black skin and fur had once been it was now rosy and smooth. Fingers were where your sharp claws had been.   
Quickly you rushed your hands over your body, feeling curves and smooth skin where wirey fur had been. Your arms lead to strong shoulders, which led to heavy and buxom breasts. Your hands rested on your belly, so much thinner than you had remembered, but it made sense. You hadn’t been eating much lately.   
Farther still you mapped out the body you hadn’t felt for so long. Your thighs, strong but leaner than you remembered. Your knees and then your toes. Everything was back. You were back in your human body, and you had no idea how.  
“H...hello…,” you whispered, your voice raw and raspy from years of unuse. It sounded off, unfamiliar to your ears. Ears that weren’t as sensitive to noise as you had become accustomed to. “Hello,” you tried again, the sound barely more than a whisper.  
You were ecstatic, so relieved that you hadn’t died as a hellhound. That you were back, as a human. Still,on the map table, you attempted to slowly climb down, but your new limbs were uncoordinated and weak and you fell to the floor wincing as your tired body hit the tile hard.  
“What the hell was that?” Dean called out in the hallway. “Damn it, , I told you I would move her.”  
He came around the corner, a white sheet in his hand. No doubt for wrapping around the dead hell hound you had been. Never expecting to see a naked woman in its place. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you stared up at him, knowing that he would be there to help you. “Help,” you whispered, your voice still hidden deep within.


	8. Chapter 8

Your knees buckled under the unaccustomed two-legged standing, and if it wasn’t for Dean you would have fallen hard to the floor. “What the…,” he muttered, instinctively catching you and holding you in his arms.  
The white sheet was still in his hands, slightly covering your exposed body as you shivered in his grasp. He sat you down on the edge of the table, taking the sheet and wrapping it around your shoulders, tucking it around your waist.  
“Y/N?” He finally asked, and you nodded, opening your mouth to speak, but no words came out.  
“What the hell happened? You were dying, and then…,”  
With no voice quite yet, you shrugged, ecstatic to be human once again. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. You’re human again, and that’s all that matters. Sam! Rowena! Cas! Come see this!”  
His hand stayed on your shoulder as he turned to face the hallway just as Sam and Rowena came bursting through the doorway, Cas nowhere to be seen. “What?” They both asked. You could see the moment they noticed the human version of you. Sam’s eyes widened while Rowena held a hand to her heart. “Y/N?” She asked cautiously and you nodded. Suddenly Dean was pushed out of the way and she was pulling you into her arms. “You poor thing. All naked and afraid with this giant...buffoon. Here, let me take you.”  
Before you could even glance at Dean, she was forcing you down the hallway on your shaky legs, talking so fast you couldn’t wrap your mind around it. “Here dearie, this is my room. Sit a spell and I’ll be right back.”  
You sank down on the matress, keeping the sheet tight around you. Soon she returned, her arms full of cloth along with a porcelain cup. “Thought you might like a cup of tea. And some clothes.”  
She placed a black t-shirt along with a grey pair of sweatpants onto the bed beside you. “Ach, I know. Not the greatest choice. But my dresses just wouldn’t do, and until we can get you clothes of your own, we can make do.”  
She turned her back while I slipped the oversized clothes on. They were baggy, the sweatpants tied up as tight as they could, but they were warm, and soft against my skin.  
“Better?” She asked, turning back around, handing me the warm mug. “Oh honey, I’m sorry you had to die to come back as human. If we had known at the beginning, well. Can you talk?”  
You opened your mouth to speak, but it was only a whisper, barely intelligible, even to your ears. Rowena smiled wistfully. “It’s understandable. After all, you haven’t had to talk for many years. But don’t you worry, it will come back. And thanks to you we can now put Lucifer back once and for all. Before he tries to kill me. Again.”  
You had heard of Lucifer, many times. But you had stayed clear of him, and anything to do with him as much as you could. But if they could lock him back up in the cage, that sounded great to you.  
“Y/N?” Dean’s voice rang out seconds before he pushed through the door, Sam right behind him.  
Rowena sighed. “Not even a knock?”  
Ignoring her, Dean came to stand in front of you. “Are you okay? Wait, are those my clothes?”  
“Of course Dean. My dresses are custom made for my body. And the poor girl needed clothes!”  
“D...Dean,” you stuttered, the word barely a whisper, but stronger than before. Dean, with his keen hunter senses heard and sank down on the bed beside you. “I’m sorry she took off with you. Rowena can be...demanding.”  
Rowena rolled her eyes. “Dean, she needed a woman’s touch. Not some lumberjacks.”  
You ignored Rowena’s words, leaning against Dean’s shoulder, instinctively feeling comforted by him. You were drawn to Dean. As a Hell hound, and now as a human once again. He was your constant when everything was so new and strange.   
“Well the wee lass has definitely chosen you,” Rowena sighed. “So I will just be on my way. I trust you two will contact me when it’s time to complete the spell?”  
“Don’t venture too far away,” Sam warned, taking her duffel bag and carry it for her. She turned to glance at you one last time.  
“Don’t you worry. While these men might look like towering lumberjacks, they mean well. You’re safest with them.” With those parting words she slipped out the door, leaving you alone with Dean once again.  
“Why don’t we get you settled in bed for the night. We can see what tomorrow brings,” Dean suggested. “You can even sleep in here.”  
You peered around the room. It was simple and stark, with it’s brick walls, old fashioned couch and furniture, and a freshly made bed. It was better than anything you had ever seen, the bed softer than anything you had ever slept on. “Here, stand up and we can get the sheets pulled down. The room is only two doors down from mine. Leave your door open and if you need anything you can just come get me.”  
You stood up, your body getting used to two legs once again. Dean pulled down the comforter and top sheet, and you slid in, the silkiness strange against your skin. He gently tucked the blanket around you. For a moment he stared down at you before finally heading to the door. “I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I am glad you stumbled into our lives. Night Y/N.”


	9. Chapter 9

Two days later and you were getting used to being a human once again. Rowena had left, promising you that she would keep in touch. Sam had told you that she was off trying to find the last ingredients of the spell.  
Cas had gone as well. You were quickly finding out how awkward he was. He had left without a word to you, casually walking up the stairs while you were perched in one of the wooden chairs in the library. When you glanced towards Dean, he just shrugged, used to the Angel’s strange ways.  
You mostly stuck to Dean’s side, loving the comfort he provided. You had caught him multiple times rolling his eyes, but he didn’t seem to mind your presence. Wearing one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants, you enjoyed being human once again.  
Your voice still didn’t want to do anything above a whisper as you adjusted to human life once again. Dean was patient, as was Sam. Sam had definitely warmed towards you, even more, bringing you warm tea to sip on, or a blanket when you were chilled. You appreciated it, and him, but he wasn’t Dean.  
Dean made sure you ate. Fixing you all of your meals, making sure you ate everything on your plate. Sneaking you cookies and pie when his brother wasn’t looking. Always walking you to your room at night, making sure you were settled in your room before retiring to his.  
It was then, when you were alone in your room, that you felt as if you could finally relax. Let all the worries and nerves that you had pushed down rise to the surface. Sure, you were ecstatic to be human, but you were worried that it was too good to be true.   
Nights were spent restless, tossing and turning on the soft bed, nightmares, and memories of your torture as a hell hound making it hard to sleep. Tonight was the worst. Memories of Alistair chaining you to the cold stone wall, leaving a plate of food and a bowl of water just out of your reach. For days, you were stuck there, whimpering when he would come and try to beat obedience into you, starving you until you had finally escaped.   
You must have made some sort of noise. Soon, strong hands were shaking your shoulders, Dean’s voice gentle but firm against your ear. “Y/N, wake up. You’re okay, it’s just a bad dream.”   
Instantly you were wrapping your arms around Dean, snuggling against him, surprising him. “Alistair,” you spoke, your voice stronger than before.  
“In your dreams?”  
You nodded against his chest, the t-shirt soft against your cheek. “Torturing.”  
Dean took a deep breath. “That asshole tortured you?”  
Again you nodded, whimpering slightly when Dean pulled away. “Y/N don’t worry. I won’t let that bastard anywhere near you. The bunker’s warded. You’re safe.”  
“Trust you,” you assured him, your voice growing stronger with each word. Before long you would be able to tell Dean you’re story. Hopefully, he would still be as friendly then as he was now. “Sorry.”  
“Don’t be sorry. I know how good at torture Alistair is. What you’ve gone through...it’s enough to break anyone.”  
He squeezed your shoulder, starting to stand up when you reached for his hand. You weren’t ready to be alone. Not yet. He instantly understood. “I can stay for a while. Scoot over.”  
You slid over and Dean climbed under the covers. Settling down, he tugged you towards him, and you settled into his embrace. His touch was comforting, relaxing you enough to easily fall asleep.  
The next time you woke, you were surprised to find Dean still in bed. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his front nestled against your back. You were warm, more rested that you had been in forever. Stretching, you slid out from under his arm, leaving him asleep in your bed as you slipped from the room.  
Sam was already in the kitchen, flipping an egg white omelet. Giving you a huge smile when he noticed you, he nodded towards the pan. “I can make you one.” He offered, then chuckled at the look of disgust on your face. “Yeah, I get it. You’ve got the same taste as my brother. Speaking of which, have you seen him? He wasn’t in his room this morning.”  
“My room,” you told Sam, watching as his eyes widened when you spoke. “Nightmare,” you pointed at yourself.”  
“Ahh,” Sam replied. “Well, I’m sorry you had a nightmare. But it’s nice to hear your voice.”  
Sam took his breakfast back to his room while you decided to try and cook for both you and Dean. You had watched him cook a couple of times, and figured you could scramble some eggs. It took a couple of tries before you had the stove on.   
You then turned your attention to the eggs, your hands clumsy as you attempted to crack them. Shell mixed with the yolk, and you stared down, wondering what your next move was. “Are you cooking?” Dean’s groggy, sleep-filled voice asked from the doorway. “Sweetheart you don’t have to do that.”  
“Wanted to,” you insisted, but you knew you had already messed up. Dean stepped up beside you, taking the bowl of eggs, easily removing the shell pieces.   
“We need to whisk this,” he told you, handing you the whisk while he added some black pepper and salt. Easily he walked you through the steps, staying right by your side as you attempted to cook for the first time in a long time. It felt nice, being useful.  
Soon you were sitting down across from Dean with a plate of eggs and toast. “Looks great,” he assured you, taking a huge bite of the eggs. “So, I was hoping, now that you have your voice somewhat back, that you could tell me more about you. If you want to. I understand if it’s too soon, I understand.”  
You took a sip of orange juice. “No. I want to,” you answered slowly, trying to figure out even where you should start.


	10. Chapter 10

Your story. He wanted to hear your story. A story so forgotten in time. Ever since you had become that horrid beast. Your family, your friends, all long gone from this world. For years, you had been alone, tormented, and teased. Hurt and broken time and time again by Alistair and the other Hell Hounds. How could you look Dean in the eye and tell him all of that?  
“Well, at least start out with the basics.” He insisted, his green eyes searching your face for answers. “How old are you? When were you born?”  
“Well, if you count how old I was before I turned into a Hell Hound, I’m 22. But that was in the year 1920.”  
“19200!” He exclaimed. “That makes you over...well, wow,” he finished lamely. “You’ve spent that long as a Hell Hound. That’s horrible.”  
“It really was,” You agreed, shivering as some of the worst memories flashed through your mind. Reaching for your glass of orange juice you took a sip, letting it clear the hoarsenss from your throat.   
Dean bit off a huge bite of bacon, munching loudly on it as he thought about it. “Damn, I’m sorry. But how the hell did you turn into one of those creatures.”  
“A jealous woman. She was a witch. A very powerful one I’ve come to find out. Her name was Adelia. Absolutely beautiful with hair as black as a crow, wavy down to her hips. Her skin was alabaster, her lips rosy red. I know now that it’s all because of witchcraft, but she could have had any man she wanted. But it turned out we both wanted the same man.”  
Sam came into the kitchen then, sweat dripping down onto his workout clothes. Heading for the sink, he poured a glass of water before turning his attention to you. “Am I interrupting something?”  
“Y/N’s just telling me about her life,” Dean explained as he stood up to clear off the table. “Care to listen in?”  
“If she doesn’t mind.” Glancing at you, he waited for your nod of approval before sitting down beside his brother.   
“As I was saying, Adelia was a horrible person. Flirting with any man she could. Taking them from other women was her favorite thing to do. Seduce them, and then leave. We were both stage dancers during the 20’s. There was this man, Alex, who came into our club every night. Rich, cultured, extremely handsome. She immediately set her sight on him, but he wasn’t interested. He began courting me. Sending me flowers, taking me out on extravagant dinners. He was charming, and kind, and I could have seen myself settling down with him. And it infuriated Adelia.”  
Taking another sip, you continued your story. “Then one night I thought he was going to propose. He had promised to come by the club, with promises of taking me out afterwards. I couldn’t help but gush about it, excited beyond belief. But when Adelia heard, she became livid. Yelling, throwing things. Everyone was scared of her. Then she came to me after the show, with a little leather satchel in her hand.”  
The brother’s shared a knowing glance. “I take it you’ve seen one of those before.”  
Dean scowled, his hand tightening on his coffee cup. “Plenty of times. I hate witches.”  
You frowned, confused slightly. “But you had Rowena here. She’s a witch.”  
“She’s different,” Sam insisted. “Back to your story.”  
Sighing, you could remember so much about that fateful night. The feeling of the buttery soft leather in your hand. Her perfume had overwhelmed you with lilies and sandalwood. The crispness of the air as you stood outside, waiting for Alex to arrive. But before he could, the moon rose in the sky and everything started to change. I went through the worst pain I had ever felt. My skin ripped and shredded as it turned into one of the deadliest and disgusting creatures ever created. I ran away after that, knowing that no one could help me. I came upon a man, you know him as Alistair. He promised to help, and well...we both know that wasn’t the truth.’ You ended your story, sighing sadly.   
“Damn,” Dean whispered. “Sam, you should call Rowena, see if she knows anything about this Adelia.”  
“Why? Y/N’s human again.”  
Dean smacked his brother’s shoulder. “Because we need to know everything we can. If she’s still alive and she finds out about Y/N? We could have even more trouble on our hands.”  
“I don’t want to bring you trouble,” you stared at Dean sadly, knowing that you didn’t want to leave him, but would gladly if it meant keeping him safe. “I can go.”  
“Hell no!” Dean’s answer was quick. “You heading out on your own? You need to stay here, with us, where it’s safe.”  
“Is that the only reason?” Sam remarked quietly before standing up. “Y/N, I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. But please know you are welcome to stay with us as long as you’d like.”  
With those words, Sam let you alone with Dean, who was looking at you with an expression you weren’t sure you understood. “Now what?” You asked, trying not to sound as awkward as you felt.  
“Now that you’re human again, why don’t we do something fun? Sam will do his usual research, leaving us some free time. What is something you’ve wanted to do, but couldn’t?”  
“A movie theater,” you answered immediately. “I’ve wanted to go to a movie, and eat popcorn.”  
Dean stood up. “Then it’s a date. You pick the movie, I’ll buy the popcorn. As long as we can get Hot Tamales too.”  
“Hot tamales?” You repeated, wondering what on Earth they could be.”


End file.
